Neural Diversity
by MabTheWinterQueen
Summary: "Emmeline Woods is a freak." Autism - a spectrum as great as that of color or sound. With the amount of people who have it, it would be nigh impossible for no one in the realm of the gods to have it. Second "disability" fic. May become a series.


**A/N: This is heavily based on my own autism, which is pretty low on the spectrum, which is why I added a few symptoms. I can safely say that having autism does sometimes make you act younger than you are.**

 **For clarification: Emmeline's birth mother is the one she calls Mummy. Her parents are lesbian. Her Ma is hard of hearing, which is why she knows BSL. I tried to avoid British slang because I'm a stupid American. Emmy lives in Blackpool, England because there isn't a lot of thought given to the fact that America can not be the only country in which a god/goddess has had a kid with a mortal. That is so improbable it's almost laughable. Yes, I made Emmeline intelligent: the fact that she has autism does not mean she is an idiot.**

 **There is mention of ableism. I abhor the ideal of Autism Speaks: that autism is a curable disease. Instead, I believe in neural diversity: that autism is not a disorder but a different way of thinking.**

 **Yes, that is my actual resting face. I've been asked if I'm okay or what's wrong when I've been spacing out. I have seriously scared my own friends.**

 **I would like to remind you that autism is a** _ **spectrum**_ **. I do not speak for every autistic child. I have a friend with an autistic cousin. When I told them I have autism, their first response was, "No, you don't." Autistic people are like snowflakes: no two ever have been or ever will be exactly the same.**

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Emmeline Woods is a freak.

Well, that's what the other kids say.

Emmy doesn't like wool: it's scratchy and rough. She likes soft, smooth fabrics, and she won't wear things if they're not warm, even in the summer. Denim is also a big no-no.

Loud noise hurts. It hurts like wool; scratchy and rough and not at all like the warm, soothing cotton and silk voices she's used to. She has to go to a private school, with special attention, because public schools are loud and coarse and her mummies can pay St. Mary's and her classes will be blissfully quiet.

Emmy can't stand social interactions. They make her nervous. She's a smart little girl, and remarkably rich, so she has access to as many books and websites as she wants. She can read and research how to act, but it all flies out the window when she's around people. She gets on well with her mothers' friends, and is good with older people; it's other children that terrify her.

When she's frustrated, she often reacts violently, smacking or hitting or kicking the object of her troubles with a grunt and some muffled curses. (Unsupervised internet access allows one to look up a remarkable amount of words and definitions.)

Emmy can't eat something if it doesn't feel right. Pizza would be okay if it didn't feel greasy and chewy and make her stomach churn. Apples and other crunchy foods are good, but chewy and rough foods aren't.

People think it's weird when she spaces out. She can stare at a wall, dreaming up her own story, her own world, all of her characters and plot and backstory for said characters and also for where they are and the rules of the realm for hours on end, her eyes blank and unforgiving as she glares into the wall, her resting face a mixture of annoyance and pissed off that seriously scares people.

And the standards she holds herself to would make a perfectionist wince. Emmy knows she has autism. She's known since she was six. She knows that her mummies know, too, and didn't tell her, but that's okay, because Emmy just Googled it. She sees this as something to make up for, something to correct. When she lost, or did less than perfect, she often cried when she was younger. Even now, her chest constricts painfully and her eyes begin to sting as she plasters a smile on her face and says, "Good game."

One year, they get an exchange student from America. Benny is a shy, mute kid with shaggy, mouse-brown hair and a limp. He's stocky, and stands at approximately 170 centimeters tall. (Five feet, seven inches, he signs, and even American _Sign Language_ has an accent.) Benny is a nice boy, and he and Emmy hit it off. Benny is quiet because he doesn't talk, and Emmy doesn't chatter incessantly to fill the silence. They can sit amicably together without going mad, and for the first time in her life, Emmy has made a friend.

She knows that people think she's a freak. There are people who say it when they know she can hear and people who say it when they think she can't. She always can.

Benny doesn't, though. For that, she is grateful.

When Emmy is nearing thirteen, a nasty man with one large eye in the center of his forehead attacks Benny and another boy named Roger, who has sandy-blonde hair and braces. Emmy is confused when no one else can see him. Benny "talks" (signs) to her and Roger. He is the son of a Greek god or goddess. Emmy is just a mortal who can see them - "clear-sighted", he called it. He says he thinks it may be because of her neural diversity; she thinks differently, sees the world differently, almost with a child-like open-mindedness, and this helps her see the truth in front of her.

Benny brings Roger and Emmy back to the States with him. Normally it'd just be Roger, but Emmy is at risk, too, because she stands out so much that he mistook her for the half-blood he was tracking in the beginning. Emmy doesn't want to leave her mothers, but when Mum tells her that she is clear-sighted, and Mother is a legacy of Athena, Emmy decides to go to protect them from the monsters that go after her.

People are always going to think Emmeline Woods and people like her are freaks. They have for centuries, and gods forbid humans change.

But there always have been and will be people who don't care, who can love and live with people who think differently than them.

And for every person who ever called Emmy a freak, there will be someone who calls her beautiful.


End file.
